


I'm in the habit of having what I don't want

by wobblyheadeddollcaper



Series: Grip and Hold [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Toni Stark - Freeform, always-a-girl!Tony, cisgirl!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wobblyheadeddollcaper/pseuds/wobblyheadeddollcaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toni Stark, unstoppable force, meets Steve Rogers, immovable object. It's not love at first sight. </p><p>"She'd been prepared to like Bruce since she'd first read his scientific papers. It's a pleasant surprise to find out Clint's been hiding a deadpan sense of humour. Natasha – well, she'd always had a thing for wickedly competent redheads in impractical shoes (see Potts, Pepper) so that works. Thor is just really fucking fun. Captain Steve Rogers is... not."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm in the habit of having what I don't want

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and love to my dear D and claudiastar, betas extraordinary and rare. Especially thanks to claudiastar for pretty much the entire second half. All glory is hers, all mistakes mine.
> 
> Title from the song Hologram, from the Tony Stark fanvid by sisabet which helped shape this fic.

One day shortly after the wormhole-and-nuclear bomb incident, Toni Stark realises she's made a terrible error.

In a fit of mental aberration, she had invited the other Avengers to live with her and the Iron Woman Suit in her Mom's New York mansion, remodelled for the purpose - it had been a lengthy fit of mental aberration involving several building contractors. The Avengers had accepted with varying degrees of suspicion (Natasha) and flattering gratitude (Bruce). 

Inviting Captain America to come live with her, that was the mistake, because getting an embarrassing hate-crush on Steve Rogers, first legit human-created superhuman and her Dad's wartime buddy, hadn't been on her radar. 

She'd been prepared to like Bruce since she'd first read his scientific papers. It's a pleasant surprise to find out Clint's been hiding a deadpan sense of humour. Natasha – well, she'd always had a thing for wickedly competent redheads in impractical shoes (see Potts, Pepper) so that works. Thor is just really fucking fun. Captain Steve Rogers is... not.

Captain Rogers is half her age plus seven almost exactly, so panting after him is not actually weird-older-woman creepy if only by a slim margin – she refuses to think about him also being 90-odd, because time spent frozen doesn’t count. There are a few flimsy explanations for the attraction she concocts once she's picked up the pieces of her ego from the wreck of her self-image. She has a thing for natural blondes – there was this floppy-haired, quick-fingered grad student at MIT back in the day who may or may not have set a few precedents for her libido. He's smart, and Toni has always, always liked the smart ones, even when they're humourless assholes (Rhodey – not once you get him warmed up, though). 

Rogers gets to her on some new level, some mean, aggressive, throw-me-against-a-wall way she's never been into. She likes sexual banter, easy loving and easy leaving, not a death spiral of a relationship where no-one even gets laid before the fighting. 

She tries to put distance between them where possible. It's a big mansion, and there's always some technical problem she can use to keep her down in her workshop, where the comfortable couch is battered and the music is always sufficiently loud to keep everyone else out.

One day she's working on some armour for the Hulk, and a detour into elastic force-absorbing gel research has her up all night, modelling molecular interactions.

“Miss Stark, is there an emergency?” Captain America says from the doorway. She's asked him to call her Toni, or even Ms Stark, like Pepper does, but he keeps defaulting back to original programming, or something.

“Nope, just following a line of thought, which you are interrupting. Go eat, or something, mi casa es su casa-”

“Kinda early to be up thinking.”

“I haven't slept yet.” She turns around and takes in the sight of the Captain's thin, dampened sweatpants. _Down girl! Not for you!_ “Why are you still up?”

“I go running in the mornings, get some fresh air to wake me up.”

“Jarvis told me, but morning,” she purses her lips in distaste at the word, “starts 9am, maybe 8 in extreme circumstances.”

“0500 is a fine hour for running, the streets are nearly empty-”

“Yeah, because all the normal people are asleep.” Toni rolls her eyes. “The freaks come out at night.”

“And you know so much about normal people,” Rogers bites out. Ooh, that hit a nerve.

She puts a wrench down on the bench with unnecessary force. Pissing Steve Rogers off comes as naturally to her as breathing, and God knows Toni's weak spots are visible from space. They make a terrible combination.

“In this century? Yeah, I think I know more about them than you do.” He takes in a breath to follow that up, and she is abruptly very tired. It's like arguing with her Dad all over again and wow, that's an incredibly disturbing thought. 

“Go get some breakfast, Captain Rogers. You're still a growing boy, must be hungry after all that running.” She turns away, going to the other side of the room – unnecessarily – to pointedly tap at a keyboard. She listens to him walk out, irritation slapping his feet onto the floor at every step.

*

She tracks down some Captain America porn – look-alikes with flags and plastic shields, giving head or sucking cock or getting fucked. It's to get it out of her system, she tells herself, and maybe to humiliate him a little in her head. It doesn't help, she just ends up horny, sore and unsatisfied.

Then a morbid impulse sends her looking for Toni Stark porn – it's out there, she knows. The porn stars are all ten years younger than she is, shaved all over, none of them even Latina, all airbrushed and twig-like. The only common feature is their tacked-on plastic arc reactors. She doesn't watch the videos. The women in straight porn never look like they're having fun – it's a perversion of sex, joyless, the fucking just a way to subjugate her in effigy. 

Toni runs her fingers over the arc reactor. She has all her dresses cut to display it, a constant reminder that she has done the impossible, in a dark cave, surrounded by enemies. That she can party harder and fuck longer and still, always, be smarter, that she has survived and thrived on her brains alone, that she earned her blood-soaked inheritance. It's a warning light – head bitch in charge.

*

Steve insists that they do group sparring, so everyone has an idea how everyone else fights 'which is invaluable in combat planning'. Toni rolls her eyes and makes jealous faces at Bruce, who is exempt on obvious grounds. He gets to watch from the sidelines as Toni has her ass handed to her again, and again, and again. 

Steve is slow and cautious, pulling his punches. He never builds up enough momentum for her to use the judo-style moves she's used to, and although she can hit him it doesn't do much except make her feel better.

Thor is a wall of improbably sculpted muscle, she could wear herself out just trying to lay a finger on him. She tries dodging around, but he's fast for a big guy. He can just grab a random limb and hold on to bring her to a comically abrupt halt. It's a less painful takedown than she got when fighting Steve, but more humiliating.

“Why can't I wear the suit for this?” she complains gasping, lying flat on the mat clutching her stomach after Natasha takes Toni down in record time – she's small but quicksilver-fast, and she fights dirty. “If I'm ever fighting without the suit, we've already lost anyway.” Steve purses his lips in disapproval.

“Your suit could be disabled by an EMP, by a virus-”

She snorts. Fuck Steve, she's pretty sure he can't even feel pain in his perfect washboard abs.

“You have to be prepared, Stark. Your suit can't do everything.”

“I made it, I know what the Iron Woman can do,” she grits out, “which is more than you do, you fucking relic!” 

“Toni, you are out of goddamn line,” Steve says quietly, violently, and it's the first time she's ever heard him swear.

“Okay, time out,” Clint says firmly. Natasha gives Toni a hand up off the floor that turns smoothly into an escort out of the room.

*

“I should apologise,” Toni says evenly, leaning against a wall in the living room while Steve folds up his plus-size limbs to sit on the couch. It's her 'talking to shareholders' voice. Natasha had talked to Pepper, which is just cheating, and Pepper had been persuasive. Toni is not going to actually say sorry, and if Steve wants to make something of it - 

“Me too. Accepted,” Steve says. “Now let's talk about combat dynamics. Natasha explained a few things.”

“Such as?”

“That you won't do drills unless you know exactly why we're doing them.”

“Damn straight.”

“You want to strategize, Ms. Stark, I'm more than happy to have your help.” He opens a laptop and pokes hesitantly at the keyboard. “I have movie reels of all our battles stored on here. Watch with me, tell me what you can see.”

Toni pulls the laptop out of his hands and sits next to him. 

“Jarvis, Avengers files onscreen.”

The wall across from them lights up, nine by nine.

“Video files plus data, just the fights. Array. Metadata bottom left on each tile, if you've got multiple angles put 'em all up.” The wall is filled with action and flying bodies. “Track individual Avengers, give me stats in the top right.” Little counters in different colours start spooling out – tracking mobility, hits dealt, hits taken.

Steve looks a little starry-eyed. “Jarvis can do that?”

“Jarvis is a perfect peach. My greatest creation.” She blows a kiss to Jarvis's main sensor, above the screen. 

“Thank you, Ma'am. Happy to be of service,” Jarvis purrs. Steve actually blushes, hell's bells. It's a good look for him, but then most things are.

“Okay, Rogers, let's get down to business. I have some ideas about air support.”

They point out dynamics to each other and Toni quickly picks up that they really need the drills and sparring Steve's been pushing. There are flashes of true teamwork, most notably between Clint and Natasha (who have been pairing up on missions since before Toni made the suit), but all together the Avengers fight like a group of strangers who happen to be on the same side.

“How do we get Hulk in?” Toni wonders aloud.

“I guess – ask Dr Banner.” Steve shrugs. 

“Yeah. I've been thinking about back when Hulk caught me, after the Chitauri. If we could rely on that, we would be formidable.”

“You talk to him, you have that scientist...” Steve waves his hands to indicate a psychic bond, or possibly 'share a hairdresser'.

“Okay. You talk to Natasha and Clint, then.”

“They came up with the drills.”

“Yeah, but that's not the only way they've built up a rapport. We can't just focus on training together, we have to... ugh, I can't believe I'm saying it, but we have to bond. Movie nights or something. Thor will be all over it, but Nat won't come unless it's useful. Clint will go for it if she does.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” Steve says, flicking two fingers at his forehead in a lazy parody of a salute. Toni feels a shimmer of attraction run over her skin and pool in her stomach.

“Popcorn? Popcorn. I'm gonna go do that, come back, we'll talk about us- about our fighting styles! Yeah.”

*

Maybe Steve is less of a tight-assed boy scout than Toni previously imagined. Maybe.

She goes down and starts welding a new exoframe for Butterfingers. It's a nice mindless job, helps her relax. Of course, since they're friends now Steve follows her down, like a giant Labrador puppy except smarter. He's just so nice, she thinks irritably, being rude feels... mean.

“Hey Steve.”

“Hi Toni.” He doesn't talk much after that, just sits there with his sketchbook and draws Dummy. The quiet is peaceful rather than awkward, and she almost forgets he's there till the last weld is done and she takes off the welding mask.

“How's the drawing going?” Steve shows her his portrait of Dummy, posing as coyly as a robot arm can pose. Steve's put an impression of character in the smooth pencil lines – Dummy looks like a person, not an arrangement of metal and circuits.

“Nice. He'll get spoiled with all this attention, you know.” Steve shrugs, smiles back at her. There's a strange feeling of potential in the room, like the moment before a lightning strike. She turns to her desk and brings up the suit schematics.

“I'm hungry. Want a sandwich?” Steve offers after she's been poking at the schematics for five minutes, her fingers weaving through the hologram.

“Nah. Uh... thanks, though.”

“All right, Rosie Riveter.”

Steve wanders off upstairs. Toni collapses the hologram and buries her head in her hands. Dummy rolls up holding a wrench.

“You're so useless,” Toni tells him. “It's a hologram, Dummy, no wrenches needed. Go pose some more, this is why I don't draw you, your giant ego - well, that and I can't draw. Steve's pretty good, huh.”

Dummy rotates his head at her.

“Shut up.”

*

Picking a movie all of them can watch is... problematic. Toni decides to turn it into a game.

No aliens. No spies. No superheroes, nothing set in the second world war. Nothing that will inadvertently mislead Steve or Thor about the nature of world history, politics or science, because the follow-up questions get boring quickly. A few other random things like clowns and cartoon animals. (Toni would ask Natasha about that last one, but she has a suspicion the answer is a lot darker than she's prepared to hear.)

Toni makes everyone tell their caveats to Jarvis, then give him suggestions to be shot down. Jarvis plays a special annoying 'beep-buup' sound for the purpose.

"Testing, one two three. Uh.. The Lion King." Beep. Cartoon animals.

"The Wages of Fear." Beep. Hulk warning.

"Hulk warning?" Bruce says, somehow amused and offended all at once.

"Sorry Bruce, just a snappy name. If watching it made my heartbeat run over 150 beats per minute, Jarvis has a warning label on it. No reflection on your control intended, but why stress you out more that we already do?"

"How long has Jarvis been recording your vital signs?" Bruce asks.

"Eh. A few years." There was this one guy who made Toni's heart race in a bad way, back when she was living destructively rather than just dangerously. Jarvis has instructions to turn on the sprinklers and initiate threat response if Toni's heart rate crests over 200 in the presence of a house guest. Obadiah Stane hadn't been listed as a guest, unfortunately. "Amazing what you find out about yourself with that much data." Any shrink would have a field day.

"You don't monitor me, right?" Clint asks, eyes narrowed. Toni rolls her eyes. 

"I put you all on Pepper profile when you moved in. All conversations with me are recorded, also basic location and health status, and he won't tell me any of those unless I give him a good reason. Jarvis will call me if he thinks you're seriously injured, that's it. All data scrapped on a rolling 48 hour schedule."

"Jarvis, could you monitor my heart rate and gamma output? Constant, all results to a folder on my space on the lab hard drive." Bruce says, talking up at the ceiling. Toni doesn't have the heart to tell everyone that Jarvis's sensors are around the house screens rather than in the roof, it's cute, they look like they're all talking to God.

"Of course, Dr Banner. You will have to wear a monitor for me to acquire heart rate data. Ms Stark, there is a spare in the right-hand drawer-"

"Yeah, yeah." Toni levers herself up to go get the thing from her bedroom - a spare she'd tried out with Pepper one night. Fun, but distracting. Trying to get Pepper's heart racing worked just fine the old-fashioned way. She walks back in to find Clint trying to explain Star Wars to Thor.

“No Star Wars, I don't want to deal with you all making C-3PO jokes at me tomorrow.” She tosses the monitor to Bruce, who fastens it carefully next to his wristwatch.

"Shall we keep going?" Steve says, probably more out of politeness than anything else. Most of this is probably going over his head, Toni reflects.

"Goldfinger." Beep. Spy themes.

"The Lord of the Rings." Beep. Inaccurate world history presented as factual.

"The Princess Bride." Ding. Bruce smiles smugly.

"Wait, really? There's magic in that! That's not realistic!" Toni protests.

"The framing device is sufficient to clarify the division between the film and reality." Jarvis says reproachfully.

"Huh. I guess. Put it on the list. We probably need at least three films for a fair selection."

"Touching the Void." Clint says. Ding.

"Absolutely not." Toni says firmly. Natasha nods approvingly. "Jarvis, do not put that on the list."

"Confirmed, Ma'am." Jarvis says.

"Why not?" Steve asks. Toni doesn't actually want to come out and explain that the gripping true life story of a guy who leaves his partner for dead on a mountain after a terrible fall has certain thematic resonances she doesn't want Steve exposed to. 

Natasha comes to the rescue.

"It's depressing." she says curtly. "Pride and Prejudice." Ding.

"Bride and Prejudice," Toni shoots back. Beep. "Oh come on, they have the exact same plot!"

"Breaking into song is a fine Asgardian custom!" Jarvis plays back a recording of Thor's voice. "Yeah, buddy, but here on Earth it's just weird." Toni's voice replies.

"Point taken, Jarvis," Toni sighs. Thor laughs. 

“I maintain it is a fine custom but swear I shall not sing out my thoughts in your home, woman of iron. I would have songs in our entertainment!”

“Fine. New parameters, musicals are allowed but only if they're good.”

"The Gold Rush?" Steve says tentatively. Ding.

"City of God." Bruce again. Ding.

"And we have our line-up!" Toni announces. "Princess Bride? Yeah, Princess Bride." There are various nods of assent.

"It sounds a little... feminine." Steve says hesitantly.

"Anything wrong with that?" Toni asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No- "

"Trust me, you'll like it."

Steve really, really does. He has a big goofy smile on his face when Buttercup and Westley kiss at the end, and Toni tries really hard not to find his clichéd romanticism stupidly endearing.

*

They're alone in the weights room when Steve blurts out suddenly -

“I should have liked you more.” 

Toni freezes, then goes back to unloading weights from the dumbbells. It's a long process – she can bench-press about half what Natasha can, and Steve can lift ten times that. Maybe everyone needs their own dumbbell set.

“Jarvis, order 5 sets of dumbbells, same as the regular. I'll mod them once they get here.”

“Toni-”

“Steve.”

“That came out wrong. I was just thinking about how we used to fight all the time. I can't even remember what got me so het up.”

“Well, I do have a mouth on me, and you have mellowed considerably since you first thawed out.” Toni says dismissively, but it comes out fond. Steve chuckles.

“You're Howard's daughter. The sass is inherited.” Toni locks off the weights on the bar with a violent twist, and doesn't smile back.

“My mother's name was Maria, and she was a lot funnier than Stark Senior. I'm not my father. I think you probably liked him more than I did.”

Steve swallows and looks away as she lies down on the weights bench. She gets about twenty reps in before he starts talking again.

“Howard's probably another reason I got angry at you.” He stands unnaturally still by her head, almost parade rest, waiting to spot her if she needs it. “You're the daughter of a man my age, and you're older than me.” His thigh muscle twitches in her peripheral vision. “It's a... a constant reminder.”

“Reminder?” She breathes out, easing the bar back into its rest. This sounds like a conversation she should sit up for.

“That... so much is lost to me, So much time gone.” Seeing all his strength so useless against his grief distresses Toni – it's such a waste, to have all that power pent-up and purposeless. Toni pats the bench beside her, and Steve sits down next to her, cautiously. 

“You picked the wrong woman to freak out on here. I'm just going to be crass until you're too pissed off to cry on me.”

“Oh goody.” he says, voice thick with unshed tears.

“You've gained time too, y'know. A trip to the future, seeing how it all turns out – admittedly I'd prefer mine not to be one-way, but... Look, on a selfish level, I'd rather have you here and defending Earth with the rest of us than dead before I was born.”

“Well, Toni, as long as I'm helping you out I'm happy.” Steve says wryly. He seems less likely to start weeping, thank God.

“Want me to really blow your mind? I could be your mother, age-wise.” she says, faux-casual. Steve makes a face. “I'd have to have started young, but I was a naughty schoolgirl -”

“Please, stop,” he says, half laughing, half wincing. “I think you pushed the conversation all the way through weird and out the other side.”

“Is that good?”

“I feel better. I think. Never mention you and being my mother in the same sentence again, though.”

“What, I'm not worthy of your Mom's company?”

“You don't deserve the terror I was as a kid.” he says lightly, but Toni can tell it's just a cover for some other thought. She doesn't push. Their new equilibrium is still fragile.

He doesn't ask her whether she's ever thought about having kids. She gives him a few points for that.

*

In the Venn diagram of her life, Toni has Friends (few), Employees (many, with a small subset overlapping with and almost encompassing friends), Avengers (a novel category, like friends but with more volatility and bloodshed), and Sexual partners (whom it pleases Toni to keep far, far away from all the other circles, ideally on a separate sheet of paper, except for Pepper who jumped in there briefly - good times - and now has her own separate circle called PP, adjacent to employees and overlapping with friends).  
Steve is in A and needs to stay there, and so cannot move to S, even if that was remotely possible, which it isn't. 

P=/NP, or 2a/=a (a>0), etc.

She spends one drunken evening in her lab with a blackboard she can’t remember acquiring, trying to prove P=NP to somehow make it okay for Steve to be in S and A simultaneously – her logic on this analogy is fuzzy in hindsight. Her theoretical mathematics is shot, she only really ever used it for applied purposes, Steve’s starting to push her into set theory and if Steve had his own set, could Toni apply the same rules to him –

“Jarvis, phone Zhao at Cal Tech, ask her what P equals.” Prank-calling Fields medallists because you have a crush is probably bad, she thinks, her hands lifting the can of Mountain Dew to her mouth in an involuntary movement, like a toy dipping bird.

“Ma'am, it is 1am in California. I am almost certain you will get an answer you do not wish to hear.”

“I never get any answer I want to hear. Fine, let her sleep.”

“And will Ma'am be following her fine example?” Sometimes, Toni almost regrets the months she spent giving Jarvis the power of sarcasm, but then she remembers how much fun it is when Jarvis does it to everyone else.

“No.” 

Bruce walks in a few hours later, looks at the board, does an almost-imperceptible double take, and starts to laugh quietly.

“You want any help with that? It's only a Millennium Problem, I could just leave you to it and come back in a few years.”

“Sure, pull up a chair. I'm thinking we publish by Friday, should be enough time to get the kinks out.” 

“I'm not sure three days is enough time to work out your kinks.”

“Oho! Nice one, Jolly Green.” Bruce shrugs modestly.

“It was that or a Mom joke. I took the high road.”

Bruce, it occurs to Tony, is in A and F simultaneously.

“We're friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Bruce says slowly, looking concerned.

“Nothing, just – y'know, good friends, and in the Avengers together.”

“You're not running on a lot of sleep, are you.”

“Your Mom's not running on a lot of sleep.”

Bruce laughs. “Stark, that was straight out of grad school.”

“Yeah, well.”

Bruce shuffles a little. “None of my business, but have you considered telling him about this?” He waves at the blackboard. Toni feels like she's had a bucket of cold water thrown over her, and forcibly resists the urge to wipe the blackboard down immediately. 

“Who? What? It's just math,” she denies, reflexively.

“Okay, my bad,” Bruce says wryly.

*

The Iolaus mission involves an extremely angry activist who, Toni will admit, has some excellent points about animal welfare but an unhelpful way of expressing them. Letting the Doombots into the Senate House probably seemed like a great idea at the time.

“You could have gone into politics instead!” She shouts at the scared-looking figure surrounded by machines, above the rattle of gunfire. “Changed the system from within!”

“Iron Woman, you are expressly forbidden from negotiation with hostiles.” Hill barks through her earpiece. “You make them even more hostile. Shut up and shoot.”

“Maria, you have such a stick up your-”

“Iron Woman!” Clint's voice cuts her off. “Cap and Widow need backup, on your nine. Second floor- shit!”

She banks and hauls ass, just in time to see Cap fall along with a ton of masonry as the Doombots take out an entire wall. 

When she gets there the brickdust is rising from the pile of rubble, and Steve is nowhere. She stays on comms, trying to get a response as she tosses rubble off the pile around where she thinks Steve went down. 

"Captain, come in. Captain, respond. Avengers, I am retrieving Cap, he's buried, help-"

"Taking heavy fire, Iron Woman, will help asap." Natasha's voice is crisp. "Nothing we can't handle, keep digging."

The suit is strong, but it's not fast and there's a lot of rubble, it take five or ten minutes before her visor shows a heat source the right size, and she can get the last few bricks off Steve.

He looks terrible. He looks crushed, like roadkill. She drops to her knees by his head - his cowl is shredded, blond hair and blood showing through. She wrestles off her gloves, wanting to check his pulse, whether his skin is still warm. His neck isn't broken, at least, she thinks as she lifts his head into her lap. He has a pulse, now he's breathing - and then his eyes flicker open, closing as he shifts his body into a more comfortable position. 

She thinks _Thanks for the Vita-Ray, Dad_ , and the sirens wail louder and louder.

*

A week later, a photo of Steve unmasked with his bloodied head in Iron Woman's lap is everywhere. Toni briefly considers buying the copyright and preventing its further publication, but it would be futile at this point. Damn the internet and telescopic lenses.

"I kinda like it." Coulson says, head tilted. 

"Never had you pegged for a sadist, Phil," Toni snarls. Coulson doesn't bat an eye, but Clint starts fidgeting with his quiver strap. Oho. Toni narrows her eyes, but decides to let this one go until she can use it to greater effect.

"It's good PR - emotional, yet retains an impression of strength. And Steve recovered just fine," Coulson adds, as if that somehow makes it better. When the photo was taken, Toni thought he was dead. Her un-armoured hands cradle his head, and thank fuck her faceplate was down.

"See, I don't like that word 'emotional'. And I don't like your PR bullshit much, maybe Steve'd prefer to have his face kept off every front page in the state of New York."

"I don't mind." Steve says, walking in towelling his hair. Fresh from the shower and glowing, Toni thinks bitterly, as if she hadn't been scrubbing his dried blood from the joints of her armour this morning. He has mottled blue bruises stretching over his arms and under his t-shirt, but anyone else would be pulp.

"Have you seen it?" she demands.

"Looks like a pietà," he says, after consideration. "The lighting is amazing, all that brick dust in the air. That was one lucky photographer."

"You were almost dead!" she says loudly. "I don't care about the lighting!"

"Well, thanks to you, I'm fine now." He smiles at her, and she could hit him for it, not that she'd do anything except break her hand.

"I thought - look, forget it, clearly we just have different tastes. I'm going to go clean the rest of your blood off my armour." She stomps down to the workshop, not sure why she's so pissed off.

"Toni, I'm sorry, are you okay?" Steve follows her, looking genuinely distressed. Always so fucking genuine.

"Why should you be? I'm sorry I didn't stop you getting crushed. And I'm sorry you have horrible taste in photography."

"It wasn't your fault. It's not weakness to be seen caring for someone." 

"It is for me. God, it is for me. I'm a CEO and a woman, and if too many people start thinking I care less about robots than people Pep and me will have another hostile takeover to deal with. You can afford to weep over your team mates, I can't."

"I couldn't tell you were crying," Steve says softly.

"Well, I was, and it looks obvious to me."

Steve makes a move like he wants to hug her, and she steps back. If he hugs her now she's not sure what she'll do. 

"Don't take it personally," she says lightly, though the lightness is strained. He steps back, ducks his head.

"I'll, uh, leave you to it, then?"

"Please." It comes out more heartfelt than dismissive, but at least he leaves and she can pretend she's not crying again, crank up the music and drain her useless feelings from her body.

*

Pepper brings over the monthly reports, withholding R and D until Toni has grudgingly gone through the financial section. Someone in accounts is faking expenditure reports - invented numbers have an even distribution of digits, while naturally generated ones have a preponderance of 1's, one of life's mysteries. Toni points this out, with Jarvis corroborating, and Pepper looks at the name on the reports, sighs, and makes a few phone calls.

Toni loves listening to her verbally eviscerate people. Pep doesn't raise her voice or swear. She doesn't have to. 

"Do you have an explanation for this? Uh-uh. Well, that's not good enough. Call the police in the morning, have him arrested in the office, publicly, and don't think I won't do the same to you. Your accounts are suspended, don't try editing anything till I personally tell you you can. Give your records to Fuernez first thing. Actually, Tom, this isn't a democracy. You are holding on to your job by the skin of your teeth. Fix this, fast, and I may not unleash Legal on your entire group."

Toni applauds when she hangs up, because Toni is an asshole like that.

"Beautiful work, Pep, one of your best. I should buy you a drink for that."

"I need a drink. Legal may call you tomorrow about the number one thing." Toni gets up and pours her a gin and tonic, heavy on the ice. Pepper presses the cool glass to her forehead.

"Why did we ever break up?" Toni asks, accidentally. Pepper opens one eye to glare at her.“Sorry. You don't have to answer.” Toni looks away quickly, in case she sees Pepper's pity. Pepper puts an arm round her shoulder, and the only thing in her voice as she replies is warmth and a little regret.

"I guess because you risk your life on a monthly basis, and I can't stand waiting around to get that phone call from Maria Hill every time you go out there and still climb into bed with you at the end of the day. I can't see all your bruises and still be what you need me to be. I love you, Toni, but it's too much for me."

"You were better at it than anyone else." Toni points out.

"I know." Toni gives her an impulsive hug. Pepper hugs her back, then runs her fingers fondly through Toni's long black hair.

"Anyway," Pepper says lightly "You liked dick too much to stick with me forever."

"Not true!" Toni says. "There were many fine dick substitutes in our relationship."

"You included."

"Yeah, fine, that one was too easy to leave alone."

"Like you."

"Pep, if I had balls you woulda bust them so hard."

They get pizza and Pepper hands over the R and D report to get smeared with oil and tomato sauce. It's a nice evening, Toni thinks, one of those happy times you fold away in your mind to take out and look at occasionally.

Pepper goes through the Stark related news of the week, now with fewer supermodels and more battles than there used to be. Nearly-dead Steve is top of the pile, and Toni tries not to look at it.

Pepper looks up from the photo, her eyes sad. "Toni, take care of yourself."

"Yes, Mom." Toni pours herself another drink. Pepper compresses her lips and Toni pretends not to notice.

Eventually – and she's not proud of this – she gets drunk enough to explain to Pepper her current theory of Steve-Toni dynamics. It goes something like this:  
Let a be attraction, and f be fear/forethought, with an oscillation partially modulated by proximity p. p increases a but has a delayed positive effect on f - model this effect with the variable t for thinking it over. If a is high and f low, Toni will do something stupid, but luckily t is small so it only takes a couple of seconds for her to back away, decreasing p and decreasing the probability of humiliation (h) which is what happens if a is unchecked.  
Thus we can see, class, that even though Toni Stark likes-likes Steve and he smells great, if she takes the time to think about it she makes hollow excuses to leave and scuttles off to her private suite to guiltily masturbate with her most technologically advanced vibrator while fantasising about peeling off Steve’s ridiculously tight uniform with her teeth.

“Toni, you should just ask him out.” Pepper says kindly, but Toni is asleep.

*

Things go pretty smoothly for the next few days. Steve brings her food down to the workshop and sticks around while she eats it. They spar with her in the suit, so she actually gets to knock Steve down a few times. Nothing attacks the east coast of the USA.

Toni has a VA charity ball to attend. She's found an up-and-coming designer who spends their time together in fittings gazing raptly at her arc reactor and then designing her yet more dresses 'to form a setting for a beautiful gem of engineering'. Toni is more than happy to be a muse and patroness for someone with such good taste in power generators.

The latest dress is made of a soft gold silk weave shot with pale blue the exact colour of the glow from her chest, scooping around her breasts to display the arc reactor. The back is mesh, opaque enough to hide her scars while still revealing that she's not wearing a bra (the support is built into the dress). The same mesh, glittering, covers her upper arms. She slips on a pair of kitten heels in bright gold and calls up Natasha. Impromptu post-battle press conferences have revealed that the Black Widow makes an excellent hair and make-up artist – it's just another kind of subterfuge, after all. The Avengers are always attractively dishevelled in photos, rather than tired and ill-looking.

Natasha looks her over. She's painted Toni's lips dark red, Iron Woman red, and put some kind of sparkle on her eyes. Toni leaves the details of make-up to the people she pays to put it on her.

"Not many places to hide a gun in that dress." Natasha says, a hint of disappointment in her voice which means she would otherwise consider stealing it from Toni. Weapon concealment is her main evaluative criterion for evening wear.

Toni jangles her two thick gold-plated bracelets, each studded with a tiny arc reactor of their own and carrying an artisan-style thumbprint on the side.

"I make my own weapons, remember? These things can knock someone through a wall." She slips one over her wrist, holding it like a knuckleduster. Of course, that means she and Nat have to go down to the firing range to test them out and slake Nat's blood-lust after all that playing around with brushes.

"Low setting." Toni says, thumb in the printmark on the bracelet, and the range dummy thirty feet away shakes on its pole, the repulsor blast leaving it shaken but undamaged.

"High setting." A repulsor blast the width of a needle shoots out, leaving a fist-sized hole in the dummy and denting the wall. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"Society parties must have gotten more vicious since I stopped being assigned to go to them." she says.

"I don't know the meaning of the word overkill." Toni says proudly. "Better safe than sorry."

"You taking a date?" Nat asks.

"Nah."

"You should take Steve, show everyone he's ready for active duty after last week."

"Absolutely not. How am I going to pick anyone up with Cap on my arm?"

"That would be another advantage." Nat says coolly. "Dealing with your one night stands wandering around the kitchen is just embarrassing. Plus you don't vet them properly. Anyone could be a hostile agent."

"If I'd known what a cockblocker you'd be I wouldn't have asked you to stay in my mansion." Toni sulks, which means Natasha has won. “I'm not asking Steve to come with me, though.”

Natasha gives her a look – which she's totally borrowed from Pepper, it's a red-headed conspiracy of bitchfaces – and flicks open her phone.

“Steve, hi. Toni wants to talk to you about the veteran's ball tonight.”

“Toni, I – uh, wait, you're going too?”

Steve, it turns out, has donated generously to the VA and has his own invitation.

“Well, I was planning to ask you – would you do me the honour of coming with me?”

“Sure, we can share a car.” Toni thinks it's a strange way of asking, but sometimes Steve is quaintly formal about public events. “I'll meet you in the garage in thirty.”  
Natasha smirks at her as Toni stabs the disconnect button.

"Did you go back in time to arrange this?" Toni hisses.

"Save your paranoia for the cream of society." Natasha advises. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

He is gratifyingly stunned by her dress, even under the unflattering grimy neon of the garage. It gives her time to get over how good he looks in a fitted WWII khaki uniform jacket. The words 'climb that like a tree' may go through her mind.  
“Wow, I need to get laid,” she mutters, and quickly says “Sorry, Steve, just, uh, thinking. Nothing to do with – shall we?” Steve offers her his arm, but seems kind of subdued as they head to the limo. Maybe he finds the whole 'ball' thing annoying – if she couldn't get drunk, she'd sure get bored fast.

"Toni, if you want to, uh, meet someone at the party, I can..." He makes the universal hand gesture for 'discreetly fuck off somewhere else'.

"Thanks, Steve, it's fine. Nat thinks I need to narrow my dating pool to vetted subjects anyway."

"Is there someone you're... thinking of getting vetted?"

"Not at this party. She's right. I'm not the best judge of character when left to myself." Toni smiles humourlessly.

"Well, you did join the Avengers." Steve says, after a pause. Toni laughs, and they talk about their last tactics session till the limo pulls up to the hotel.

Of course the forecourt is full of photographers. When Steve holds out his arm politely she pats him smoothly on the shoulder, and he doesn't need to be told twice. Denying the paparazzi gossip makes Toni deeply happy. Steve plays the game himself - he has about fifty identical blue shirts and khaki slacks that he wears to piss off photographers, who haven't been able to get a new-looking candid shot for months. It doesn't stop the questions.

"Toni, how long have you been fucking Captain America?"

"Steve, did you sleep with Toni's Mom?"

"Is it true you used to sleep with Toni's Dad?"

Steve looks a little bewildered, but quickly shuts it down in favour of a stern yet noble scowl.

"This is the fallout from that photo," Toni murmurs to him, smirk firmly affixed to her face. "Don't hit anyone, I'll tell Jarvis to hack their expense accounts after we get home."

"Toni, are you gonna have his babies?"

"Toni, has he cured you of being a lesbian?"

“Toni, aren't you robbing the cradle?”

As they get inside Steve shakes his head vigorously, like a dog getting out of the water.

"What a swell start to the evening," he says grimly.

"I'd say it can only get better, but that's a damn lie." She signals a waiter, and grabs them a couple of flutes of champagne. “We'll survive, just stick with me and we'll fake an emergency and leave if you get groped by too many rich people.”

They eat some tiny shrimp-on-a-cracker hors d'oeuvres and talk to a few bankers, a retired general who is even more drunk than Toni plans to be, and a property company owner who takes the opportunity to complain about the real-estate damage the Avengers cause.

“It's us or the bad guys, Sir, and with us you get a chance to rebuild afterwards.” Steve says firmly. The guy shuffles off, and Toni raises her glass to Steve.

“Not great PR, but a beautiful sentiment.”

The music starts, and they mill around at the edges, doing their bit for SHIELD by dancing with a few dignitaries and buttering up politicians. Toni's had ballroom lessons – started age eight, ending when she blew up the dance teacher's stereo age eleven. Steve seems to pick it up after watching the floor for a few minutes – super-soldier reflexes, she guesses.

“Want to dance, Ms Stark?”

“Lead on, Captain Rogers.”

He's a good dancer. It's nice to have his arms around her, strong and supportive. She leans in a little and his hand tightens around her waist.

“I think we should head back soon.” he murmurs in her ear. “If I have to shake one more hand my fingers are going to fall off.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “It's a pleasure dancing with you, Steve, especially after the Greek ambassador. My toes thank you.”

“The pleasure's all mine, Toni.”

"So," Toni says, "Dance much back in the thirties?"

"Not really. Not many gals wanted to dance with me back then." He steers her around a slow-dancing couple, keeping a polite space between his body and Toni's.

"Well, you're pretty good. You should find a full-time dance partner one of these days."

"I've got you."

"I don't make a habit of dancing. There are other women in New York who are interested in you - I don't know whether you've noticed all the fanmail..." Steve blushes. All the Avengers get fanmail, and Steve's always contains the largest amount of women's underwear (Thor's mail comes a close second). Toni may have instituted group fanmail opening as a team bonding exercise solely to watch Steve's face flame scarlet red as he opens them.

"They don't know me. And some of those letters are kinda... explicit."

"You should see mine," she says, "Jarvis can set up tracking systems if you're worried about stalkers, by the way."

"You have stalkers? Plural?" His hand tightens a little around hers.

"Eh, basement-dwelling mouthbreathers. Nothing I can't handle. I wear armour a lot, you may have noticed."

They dance in silence a little.

"When you say other women," Steve says slowly, and she has a moment of sheer panic "does that mean you-" A loud crash mercifully interrupts them. She drops Steve's hand and runs towards the sound, pulling her bracelets down to clasp in her fists, ready to fire. He's hot on her heels, pulling a SHIELD comm from his coat pocket.

"Disturbance at fundraiser, we're checking it out - Iron Woman, you're not armed!" Steve shouts, as Toni heads down the corridor to the sound of screams.

"Yes I am!" she shouts back, and shoots down a door, leaping through the empty frame. 

"Noted," Steve says, sounding impressed and a little breathless.

*

The crash turns out to be from when a waiter was thrown into an open, fully loaded dishwasher, sending dishes flying. There's a big guy with a bike chain wrapped around his meaty hand dragging the pastry chef out of the kitchen by her long black braid.

“Stop right there!” Steve shouts. Toni hangs back quietly, keeping work stations between herself and the enemy's line of sight. The hostage swears vehemently at the guy, and Toni's Portuguese is good enough to figure out that this is probably domestic violence gone public, and the guy is bad fucking news.

The floor is covered in shards of glass and china. Toni is acutely aware of how stupidly lacking in armour plating her kitten heels are as she dodges across the debris, trying to get a clear shot for her bracelets. She doesn't want to waste the guy, not when he hasn't killed anyone yet. Steve blocks off the main doors out to the street, and as the guy darts right for the fire exit she slips out and kicks him in the groin, grabbing his wrist on the way down to prise open his hand and free the woman's braid.

“Run, tell the cops!” Toni urges, and like a sensible civilian she does what she's told. Toni is absolutely in favour of other people following orders.

Big guy is down but not out, and the scratch of broken china is the only warning she gets before he's up again, enraged and not picky about his targets. She can't get the space to point a repulsor at him, reduced to grabbing and twisting moves to keep him off balance till Steve gets over.

“Toni, knife!” Steve shouts, and she turns just a fraction too slowly. The knife cut feels like a scorch along her side, winding her. It's pure reflex that lets her punch the guy in the head, sending him reeling backwards before Steve slams him into a wall. He flops onto the floor like a rag doll.

“You know, Cap, I hate to say it, but you were right about training out of the suit.” Toni gasps, light-headed. Fighting without the suit is more visceral – her adrenaline is pumping and though that cut is going to sting like a motherfucker in a few minutes, she's feeling no pain right now. She slip-slides through the ruined kitchen to sit on the single rickety wooden chair, probably a rest stop for tired busboys. Steve secures the guy, checks he's breathing and follows her over, his brow furrowed.

"Well, that does it for this dress." Toni says ruefully. There's a shallow gash down her ribs, and the gold fabric over her chest is in ribbons. For once, she's going to wait for an ambulance and shock blanket, just so she isn't flashing the inevitable cameras when she walks out.

"I couldn't care less."Steve says, through gritted teeth. "Will you hold still?" He's trying to get at the cut, which is dislodging what little clothing she has left on her torso.

"I'm fine, stop poking at it! You can try to grope me when I'm not injured." Steve snatches his hands away like she's a hot stove.

"Sorry - look. At least put some pressure on it." he says, holding out a cloth napkin. Toni rolls her eyes and takes it, wincing as she clamps it over her wound.

"Could be worse. Could have been a boob. Now that stings, let me tell you. I had to have my scars reduced after I got home from - after this." She waves a hand at her arc reactor. 

"Shrapnel. Barely visible now." She'd arranged a surgeon who would work on her with only local anaesthetic, who would let her bring Pepper and Rhodey into the operating room to stand watch for the vengeful ghost of Obadiah Stane.

"Mmm." Steve looks away from her chest. 

"No, look," Toni says teasingly. "The skin's almost flawless." She runs her thumb over the curve of her breast, and Steve turns, watches the press of her hand against her skin as if compelled.

He looks straight at her face, and the heat in his eyes makes her speechless. His lips are parted, and he looks like he wants to tear the rest of her dress off and drown in her body.

“Come to my room tonight,” Toni blurts out, hurriedly, while he still looks like that.

“Yes.” Steve reaches out and rests a hand on her bare shoulder. It probably looks platonic from a distance, but his fingers are stroking her skin, feather light.

*

There's a debrief, because Toni did bad things in a previous life - okay, in this life – and is being punished through torturous anticipation. She finds herself staring at Steve's hands as he talks, and is so monosyllabic Fury almost sends her for overnight medical observation. It's past midnight by the time they get back to the mansion, her side bandaged and painkillers dutifully taken.

As soon as the door shuts behind them Toni tackles Steve, getting her arms around him, straining upward to reach his mouth. Steve kisses as if memorising her, as if he's been waiting for this a long time, slow and searching.

“Come on,” Toni says, grabbing his arm to pull him to her room. Steve reels her back for one last kiss before he follows her up the stairs, laughing.

Once they're inside her room Steve lifts her up, easily, his arms along her thighs and his hands cupping the curve of her ass. He carries her towards the bed, stopping every so often to grind up against her crotch.

“Don't put me down yet, I like the view from here,” Toni announces, as she watches Steve suck her nipple, his face bathed in the glow of her reactor. “Oh, do that thing with your tongue agai- yeah, good.”

Steve says something indistinct that sounds like ' thank you, ma'am.' Yeah, that could be a fun kink to try with Steve. Maybe later. If there is a later.

Now is good, now is great. She wants to get Steve's clothes off and run her tongue down his abs, wants to see his cock, taste it, wants his long clever fingers on her clit and inside her. She wants everything, all at once.

“Condoms.” She makes a break for the bedside table – she has an implant, but condoms are a good idea. Steve doesn't know much of her history, she doesn't know his.

“Hey, wanna see a trick?” 

“Yeah?” Steve says quizzically.

She leans forward, palms an opened condom, quickly swipes a hand across her face and uses her mouth to unroll the condom down his cock. His head brushes the back of her throat as she bottoms out, and she swallows around him, eyes stinging, before pulling off.

“Oh, wow,” Steve gasps. “How – that's a hell of a trick.”

“I learned a lot at college.” Toni smirks. 

“I should tell you, I haven't been with many people.” He runs his fingers round the curve of her ear. “No magic tricks.”

“We can take our time,” Toni says cautiously. “I can show you the ropes, well, not the actual ropes because that's more of an anniversary thing, but I wouldn't laugh at you or anything, I don't do that.”

“I pick things up fast, just – I want to make it good for you,” he says, sincerely. “Show me how?”

How could she refuse?

“Give me your hand,” Toni says, and guides him over her body, showing him what makes her moan, what makes her shiver. Ten minutes later he has three fingers curling up against her G-spot and a thumb on her clit, wringing every last gasp out of her, drinking her cries from her mouth. Her orgasm leaves her limp, stoned, mewling like a kitten.

“Fucking hell, Steve.” He's still wearing the condom, cock flushed and rigid against his belly.

“Toni, that was incredible.” He slides up her body, inhaling her, making her sensitised skin tingle under his touch.

“Are you kidding me, we didn't even, one minute, okay?” She abandons herself to afterglow, pulling Steve close so she can rest her head on his warm, well-muscled chest. He shivers as she noses against his neck, little orgasmic aftershocks pulsing through her like waves of electricity.

“Okay, your turn.” She straddles his lap, guides his lube-slick cock into her. She's still so wet from coming that he slides in fast, almost up to the hilt, in one smooth motion.

“Oh God, Toni,” Steve groans, and she can feel the roll of his muscles under her thighs as she begins to thrust her hips, rocking forward to drive his cock deeper into her.

“Can I-” Steve thrusts his hips up, blind need on his face. She grabs his hands from where they're fisted in the sheets, fitting his fingers over the jut of her hipbones.

“Yeah, go on.” Jesus, it's like riding a tiger, all that power under her, barely leashed. His hands pull her down against him, and they work their way to a shared rhythm, fast and hard, building a bonfire in her spine. The sting of her injury is just starting to surface again when Steve gasps, fucks up into her in one last slow, liquid roll, and stills. She can feel the twitch of his cock inside her as he comes.

“Toni.” Steve opens his eyes, wide and amazed, like a man stepping onto a new planet.

“Yeah.” she agrees, breathlessly. She holds onto the edge of the condom as she eases herself smoothly off his softening cock to sit across his thighs.

“Toni.” He gently cups her head in his hands and leans up to kiss her thoroughly, pulling her back down with him to lie spreadeagled across his chest.

“Yeah, Steve.” His hand runs gently through her hair as she drifts into sleep.

*

Steve is gone when she wakes up. She has a brief moment of panic before she remembers his freakish early rising habits. He probably went for a run instead of creepily watching her sleep for three hours, which is good, isn't it?

"Jarvis, where's Steve?"

"Captain Rogers is not in the mansion, Ma'am. His Avengers tracker indicates he is in a bodega twenty blocks away. Shall I call him for you?"

"No. New protocol, disable reporting on location from Avengers phone trackers unless an emergency is confirmed in progress by two team members. I just realised how invasive it is." 

"Congratulations on your personal growth, Ma'am."

She goes to the main breakfast room, where Clint has brewed coffee and Bruce is face down in a pile of research papers. Both they and his face are covered in neon orange marker pen.

Natasha walks in, takes one look at Toni, raises an eyebrow and walks out again, snagging a banana on her way. Clint watches her leave and then looks speculatively at Toni.

"What, Barton?"

"Just wondering which of you finally had the guts to make the first move."

"Kinda both," Toni replies equably. "When are you gonna tell Coulson you want him to tie you up and spank you?"

"I see getting laid hasn't made you less of a bitch."

"All I hear is 'I'm not getting any, wah wah wah'." She shifts a little, feeling a pleasant soreness from last night against the hard chair.

Clint grins. "Mazeltov, Stark. He's a good guy."

"Yeah." Toni buries her face in her coffee cup. There's probably an innocent reason Steve left, or maybe he was terrified by her haggard face in the morning light, or he had a realisation that he loves Maria Hill or something. Toni shakes herself and tries to gauge the mood at the breakfast table."It won't fuck up the team, right?"

"Not unless you want it to. I think we're solid enough." Clint says. "Hey, Banner. Bruce. Hulk minor. Big green smash machine. HEY, DIPSHIT!" Bruce's head jerks up from the table, his eyes flashing green for a moment.

"Bruce, will Toni and Steve hooking up imperil the synergy of the team dynamic? In your scientific opinion."

"Wstfl? Not, what? No. Just ask him already."

"They already did it," Clint advises him.

"Oh thank God. I didn't want to see your angst math any more."

"Angst math?" Clint says gleefully. "Bruce, tell me everything."

"Bruce, tell him nothing." Toni points at him sternly. "I put a roof over your head, give you a lab of your own, and this is how you repay me?"

"I never saw it, it didn't happen," Bruce intones. Bruce is a kind and noble man. Toni smiles benevolently upon him.

"Great. Send me the details on that biospectrophotometer you wanted, it'll be here by noon tomorrow."

"The rich disgust me," Clint announces. "You're not even pretending not to bribe him."

Bruce amiably waves a sleepy hand and wanders off in search of herbal tea, for which he has a baffling fondness. 

“So when are you telling the press?” Clint asks, grimacing sympathetically.

“Woah, the press? It was one night, Clint, and Steve's been gone all morning.” She does a pretty good job of not sounding worried about that, she thinks.

“Yes, but - ” Clint waves his had around vaguely “You've been in each others' pockets for months. I kinda thought-”

“Maybe leave the thinking to the rest of us, Hawkeye.”

“Whatever. You better figure out what you're doing, Stark.”

*

When Steve gets back, carrying a couple of cheap plastic bodega bags, Toni is down in her workshop, taking the morning off to play the Iron Woman simulator game Pepper just got licensed. The dynamics are pleasingly responsive, even if they're nothing like the real thing.

“Hey, Toni,” Steve says warmly, and it takes Toni a split second to remember that, yeah, they slept together. It's hard to connect Steve, his hands playing her like a violin, with Captain Steve Rogers, the guy who wears clothes and commands the Avengers. Steve leans in and kisses her while she's still off-balance, and maybe she doesn't respond as quickly as she'd like.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Totally fine. How was your morning? Oh, pretty much the whole rest of the team knows, sorry, came down to breakfast at the wrong time and Natasha just guessed.”

“Good. I mean – you didn't want to keep it from them, did you?” Steve looks a little confused.

“No. I'm more worried about your reputation than mine.” She smiles too widely, she can tell.

“I brought some food.” Steve says, waving a brown paper bag. “How about we sit down and talk about this.” It's a statement, not a request. She digs around in the bag and brings out a churro, still warm.

“Now, I haven't done this much, so could you just explain what's going on? Small words. Cause last night was incredible, but now you seem – Do you regret it?”

“No! God no, Steve, it was great. You were great, you were hot. I – it's stupid, okay? You were gone when I woke up, and it just took me a second to. Uh. I didn't know where you'd gone. It's fine.”

“What did you think?” He looks worried.

“I don't know, for a run? Cause you don't sleep past 4am? For future reference, you can wake me up pretty much any time for a second round, you don't need to sneak out.” She reaches out for him, then drops her hand, shoving it into a pocket.

“I went to get these.” Steve pulls a bunch of deep red roses out from the other bag behind his back. “Then I panicked about whether you'd want them and got you pastry for breakfast in bed, but it took a while to find the flowers, so you were up by then...”

“Steve – thank you. They're great.” She holds them uncertainly, appreciating the colour. 

“People still bring flowers, don't they?”

“On occasion. Really, thank you.” She carries them up to the kitchen and finds a margarita jug that she can put them in.

“So.” She smiles at Steve, and they both look away, then back again. 

“So... Toni, I would really like to take you to bed again.”

“That sounds fantastic. When?”

“Want to go for a meal this evening?”

“I could order pizza. We wouldn't even have to leave the bed.”

“Practical.” Steve looks a little unsatisfied.

“Doesn't have to be pizza,” Toni tries.

“No, anything you want,” Steve says, decisively.

“That is an excellent attitude.” Toni gives in to her baser urges and steps into Steve's personal space, tilting her head up to be kissed. “I should get the Quinjet fuelling plans to Maria before tonight or she'll start calling me every ten minutes, but after that...”

“Call me when you can. I'll be waiting,” Steve promises.

*

They fuck. They fuck in Steve's bed, and Toni's, and the couch in Toni's workshop. They fuck like they're trying to say something to each other. 

Steve offers to take her to a restaurant again, but quickly stops asking after Toni points out the paparazzi storm that will ensue. So they eat pizza at home, and Steve lights tea-light candles, and then they fuck on the floor. Steve tries cunnilingus for the first time and doesn't buy her any more roses. She figures he's thinking they should stay low key, not rush into anything serious, which is good, right?

“So, we can stop using condoms if you want.” Toni says. “I'm clean, and I have this implant that means you can't knock me up.” It takes Steve a second or two to take that in – he always has a lag time talking about sex, for some reason. Like pulling his brain to a point where it's okay to say these things in front of a Lady takes a little effort.

“I – actually, I don't know for sure.” Steve says, rubbing the back of his head. “Where do they do tests for, uh, VD? I'd prefer not to go to SHIELD.” He gets that inward look that means he's contemplating Fury's Eyepatch of Disapproval.

“SHIELD probably knows already – hey, I could hack your medical file. I won't look, you can read it and tell me.” 

“Yeah, that sounds all right. You can read it if you want – the bits that aren't classified, anyway.”

“You're worried about my clearance level?” she says, jokingly. Toni is a little appalled that Steve values security secrets above his bodily autonomy, but not all that surprised.

“Well, you could just be cuddling up with me to gather information.” Steve puts on his wartime propaganda face. “Loose lips sink ships!”

“It goes both ways. How do I know you're not fucking – sorry, 'making love' to me to get your hands on my tech?” Steve doesn't like when she calls it fucking, because he's a giant prude outside the bedroom. 

Steve laughs, sounding a little embarrassed at the idea he could weaken Toni's control over her corporate secrets. She's beginning to think he genuinely has no idea how attractive he is. She would probably give him the Mark II plans, at least, for oral.

“As if I'd even know what to do with your suit, apart from mount it on a wall somewhere.”

“True, I suppose I can trust you after all. I won't peek at the top secret bits, girl scout's honour.”

“You know, the first girl I ever had a liking for was in the girl scouts.” Steve says, reminiscing, and for once the memory seems entirely free of pain. “I can't even remember her name, but she had pigtails with little green bows on.” Toni actually contemplates putting her hair up in pigtails for a moment, before she remembers she's a grown fucking woman who still has a few shreds of dignity to hold on to.

After a few layers of security, Toni finds out that Steve is entirely and unsurprisingly free of disease. There's also some stuff about his enhanced learning abilities she has to seriously restrain herself from following up on, but she did promise Steve and he is standing right there.

“All right, then. You free tonight?”

“Yes.” Steve picks her up and twirls her around, startling a yelp out of her. She pushes at his shoulders, trying to get back down to erase her tracks from the SHIELD system. 

“Hey! Oh, wait, it's team movie night. Hang out with the gang, raincheck on sex? It's only a few more hours. Keeping the Avengers running smoothly is more important than this.” She squirms free of his arms and runs over to the computer – keyboards are limiting, but sometime necessary.

“Not that you aren't important to me, but yes. For now it is.”

“For now?” Toni doesn't look back at him, trying to remember what file she dumped the logs in. She should really make a better system for this.

“Well, someday we'll all have settled to each other. We won't need to work to forge the team. We'll have time.”

She can't think of a reply so she taps industriously at an unimportant bit of the keyboard, her brain humming. They haven't talked about the future, haven't done much except screw each other's brains out, and Toni realises she doesn't know what Steve's plans are, whether she's in them.

“C'mon, it's Thor's pick tonight.”

After the movie – The Sound of Music won out narrowly over Tristan und Isolde, to Toni's heartfelt relief – she waits a futile five minutes to follow Steve out, partly for decorum and partly for perversity. Thor and Bruce go to try and match up Thor's Asgardian energy knotwork diagrams with Earth physics equations, which Toni would be seriously tempted by if Steve wasn't waiting upstairs. Clint gives her meaningful looks she can't interpret until Natasha rolls her eyes and comes over.

“Toni, what's happening with Steve.” It's not even a question, damn her.

“We're sleeping together. Thought you'd cottoned on to that.”

“Emotionally, Toni.”

“We're... I don't know, trying it out. He's young, he's got a whole super-enhanced life ahead of him, and it's more important to build up the team right now. Main point: the Avengers come first, even if Steve and I don't – if we keep going or if we stop, it won't affect you.”

“We know that,” Clint says unexpectedly. “The two of you are pretty good at running this operation. You do fuck up, but you care.”

“I just don't want either of you to get hurt.” Natasha adds seriously. 

“I'll be careful.” Toni smiles at her, touched. Natasha doesn't do caring statements often.

“I've seen what you call careful. Be smart, Toni. And keep him in one piece.” She taps Toni on her knee for emphasis.

Toni thinks about this on the way to her room. Maybe she needs to go easy on Steve, make it clear she's not expecting him to do the dating song-and-dance for her, that she loves him but can let him go. Take care of him for a while.

*

Steve is lying on her bed and frowning. He is, depressingly, still clothed.

“Hey... are you okay?”

“Yeah, just, that film.” He shakes his head incredulously.

“You don't like singing and dancing? If you don't like nuns I think you have to hand over your stars and stripes outfit.”

“The Nazis. Not that – I mean, it was a good film, but they just seemed so... unreal. Like the monsters from old novels.”

“Oh shit – Jarvis, I thought we said no Second World War stuff? How did The Sound of Music get through? Do I have to tell you things twice now?” How had none of them noticed?

“The Second World War does not appear in the Sound of Music.” Jarvis says robotically. It's his way of expressing hurt feelings, because he wouldn't be Toni's if he wasn't a little passive-aggressive.

“Include Nazis on the list.” Toni says sharply, then, feeling guilty; “Sorry Jarvis, my bad not yours.”

“Toni, I'm not going to – it's not a problem. Times have changed, that's all, I have to change with them.” Steve puts a hand on her shoulder, comforting her, but doesn't seem to know where to go from there.

“If you want some space, I can go -” Toni gestures in the direction of the workshop. Steve looks puzzled.

“I have plenty of space, it's a big room.”

“I mean, if you want to be alone. To, uh, think about stuff.”

“Stay – you can, can't you? We had the evening free and clear, for...”

“Of course, if you want me.” Toni's double meaning is for once unintentional, but she's been corrupting Steve's mind too well and he spots it about the same time he does.

“Maybe not that.” Steve ducks his head. “That's another thing I can't get used to. I guess people have always had unmarried sex, but in my neighbourhood we were all Catholics. It didn't get... talked about.”

“Repress and deny, right. My Mom grew up that way.”

“That was the doctrine. The army was different, but I wasn't in the army all that long.”

“I shock you, then.” Toni feels a little queasy where she used to feel smug. She'd like to make things easier for Steve, rather than harder.

“You always have.” Steve smiles. “Ever since I met you. It's good for me.”

“I'm not sure a SHIELD psychiatrist would agree.” 

Steve makes a dismissive noise.

“When I first woke up, SHIELD put me in this – theatre set of the 40's. To ease the transition. It was awful, I felt like I was going off my rocker. You're firmly in the modern era. It's reassuring.”

So Toni is Steve's guide to the future, God help him. That sort of makes things clearer – she's teaching him Modern Fucking 101. It's a pretty good deal, Toni tells herself, and tries to be convinced.

“Not like the girls back home, huh? Well, they tell me I'm like that for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Steve's brow creases.

“You're not the first person I've bewitched with my incomparably skilled... dancing.”

“I figured that out – the men of this century aren't blind, after all.” Toni actually blushes, which hasn't happened in years.

“And women,” she clarifies. “Just so some reporter doesn't blindside you with that.”

“Pepper, right?” Steve blows out a breath. “I gotta admit, that was strange to find out. Not bad! I just never knew any girl who was that way.”

“You probably did.” Toni raises an eyebrow at him.

“It would explain a few things about the chorus girls,” he admits. “And of course, Bucky was.”

“Bucky? Huh. You ever..?”

“Once or twice. I loved him.” Steve, for a guy of her Dad's generation, is terrifyingly open about his emotions sometimes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

*

It's working pretty well until Steve doesn't come home one night. She knows he's drinking with Rhodey, hell, she set them up for a little soldierly bonding time herself. She ignores her phone after about eleven, switches it off just to prevent herself from calling him. Jarvis won't let her track him without a cosign from another Avenger, damn him.  
It turns out that was a really bad idea. Rhodey texts Pepper, who calls Natasha, who breaks into Toni's workshop.

“Steve's in trouble.”

“Let me suit up, where is he? Is it Hydra?” Those guys just won't lie down.

“No. No suit, we have to handle this quietly.”

When they pull up at the bar Toni has only a vague idea of what's gone wrong. Rhodey won't pick up his phone and all Natasha got was that they needed a quiet extraction, fast.

“No photographers outside... yet,” Natasha notes quietly.

Steve is at the bar. No one is bleeding, but Steve is having a vehement argument with a couple of white guys in Confederate flag T-shirts. Rhodey looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“I don't care what your dad told you, it wasn't like that!” Steve shouts, and Toni steps in smiling, slipping an untested repulsor ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

“Oh hey, sweetie, there you are! I've been worried, and the kids want their bedtime story. Sorry to steal him away, guys.” Rhodey makes bug eyes at her. She winks at him, false smile firmly in place. “Don't think you're not in trouble for keeping him out so late. Natalie's looking for you.” The Black Widow is standing in the doorway, staring at Rhodey in a distinctly unimpressed fashion.

“Don't make fun of me, Toni,” Steve says tersely, clearly not getting it. “It's not nice.”

“Who's making fun? We _need_ you at _home_.” Toni emphasises.

“Oh.” Steve downs the last of his beer, suddenly all business. “Come on, Colonel.”

They get into Toni's least flashy car. Natasha slips into the driving seat, nodding the rest of them into the back.

“Is it Hydra?” Steve asks as they pull off.

“Nope, this is more of a saving-you-from-yourself deal.” Toni says. “James here thought you needed an out.” Rhodey winces. Toni doesn't break out his first name often.

“Can't a guy talk in a bar any more?” Steve is clearly still punchy from the argument.

“A guy can. You can't. Got to keep a low profile, Steve. Can't have Captain America breaking someone's arm in a bar fight.”

“I don't understand this time!” Steve says, lost and angry. “You talk about s- about sex all the time, but politics is too fraught to discuss with strangers?”

“Yes,” Toni says firmly.

“Well, it's stupid. And that act you pulled was really mean.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you drunk? You can't get drunk.”

“No.” Just pissed off, Toni concludes.

“So, when's the wedding?” Rhodey asks, trying to diffuse the tension and saying exactly the wrong thing.

Toni glares at him. He raises his hands, wearing his 'don't get your crazy all over me' look.

“Just a joke, Toni. Sorry, Cap.”

“It's a fair question, isn't it?” Steve asks, aggrieved. “You're a friend of hers, you want to know I'm treating her right.” 

“Treating her – oh, you're can't be – Toni?” The sheer incredulity in Rhodey's voice is a little insulting.

“I hadn't told Rhodey,” she says, talking directly to Steve.

“Why not?”

“Cause we're not – dating, or whatever. We fuck around and you talk to me, we're friends. I don't own you. That's not how this works.”

Steve's mouth twists down, a bitter shape she hasn't seen in months.“Certainly not how it works for you, Toni, you made that clear. I've seen enough of your past to know where I stand.” Toni feels like she's been punched. Steve always did have an eye for her weak spots. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Natasha, I'll walk home. Pull over.”

Natasha swears at them in Russian and steers the car to the curb.

“We're going to talk when I've calmed down enough,” Steve says, opening the door. It sounds like a threat.

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Toni sneers.

“What the fuck was that?” Rhodey asks.

“Consider this your heads up. Steve and I are...” She waves a hand. “Your surprise is not flattering. I could totally get a Steve.”

“You are both idiots!” Natasha snarls. “Stark, what the hell is wrong with you!”

“I was careful!” Toni yells. “I gave him space, I didn't go out to restaurants with him, the sex is hot and incredibly considerate!”

“I can't know this,” Rhodey mumbles.

“You – I have no words. You've been treating him like a call-girl treats a _client_. Toni, you have to tell him how you feel, honestly, the next time you see him. If you won't do it out of respect for him or yourself, then do it for the Avengers. We can't work with the two of you like this.”

*

When she gets to his room Steve's there, pulling off his T-shirt. He's shaking a little.

“Toni, I'm so sorry.” He steps towards her and she steps back, shaking her head. She won't be able to say this if Steve puts his arms round her, she knows it.

“We need to talk. You said something a while back, about how when the Avengers are more settled we could – we will -”

“We'll have time.” He says it like an article of faith, something to hold on to.

“Yeah. I want to know – did you, do you want to be together then? You and me?”

“Toni?” Steve looks scared, and she can't tell why. “Yes, you know that I – what are you asking me?”

“I don't know.” She runs her hands through her hair, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Jeez, Toni,” he says, achingly gently. “Why are you so sad? What can I give you?”

 _Whatever you want. I want whatever I can get from you, for as long as I can have it._ Toni knows that you can't live on good sex alone, especially when your heart is in the mix, but for Steve she'd try it. It would destroy the team, though, so she hardens her resolve.

“I want – okay, look, question for you first.”

“Okay.” Steve looks like he's going into battle, his face set and serious.

“How serious is this for you? Do you want a relationship, or just nights here and there? Because the sex is amazing, but I want more. I want to do this properly – maybe not go on TV tomorrow, but – asking you to go steady feels so sixth grade, Steve, help me out here.”

“I want to marry you, when you'll let me,” Steve says, brave and absolutely certain. “I have so many plans for us – years and years' worth of plans, Toni.” Steve leans over and kisses her. “Most of them don't even involve taking you to bed. God, I thought you were going to say you were through with me.”

“Never,” she says breathlessly, so relieved she can barely speak. “What plans did you have in mind?”

“For a start, I'd like to dance with you with fewer cameras trained on us.”

Her hand stops running through his hair as she reviews that first evening together. They put on nice clothes, they went somewhere for drinks and dancing...

“That – was that a date?” she asks, disbelieving. “Did Pepper put you up to it?”

“No – It wasn't the best idea, but I figured people still went dancing. I wasn't expecting it to be so... gruelling. All that glad-handing and those rude reporters -”

“You wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Toni, of course I did. Is it so hard to believe I like you? That I think we could make it work?”

“I think you could do better,” she says bluntly. Best to put it there out now. “I'm reckless and I'm too old for you, and... you have to stop looking at me like that or I'm never going to leave you alone.”

“I love you exactly as you are, or I wouldn't-”

“Wait, you love me?” For some reason this question sends Steve over the edge.

“Yes! I've loved you for months, and it's been embarrassingly obvious to everyone but you! How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time without blowing yourself sky-high!” Toni laughs, feeling full of light.

“Always so charming, Steve – I don't know why I love you so much.” Then her brain taps her on the shoulder to remind her what Steve said back there.

“Wait – MARRY me?”

Steve kisses her, shutting her up. It's a mercy, Toni decides, and sets her mind to convincing him not to change his.

*


End file.
